


Surprise

by anr



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-21
Updated: 2006-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only when it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise

He has just sat down when the unmistakable sound of high heels echoes through his house. Starting at the front door, click-clacking down his hallway, and then entering his kitchen a half-second before her voice.

"Giles, _what_ have I told you about not locking your door?"

"Hello, Anya." He doesn't quite look up from his paper, but he does let it rest on the table so that he can wave her towards the nearest chair. "Breakfast?"

"I mean, _really_. I could have been anything coming in here -- _anything_ , Giles! -- and you wouldn't have known until it was too late!"

Considering the warning charms he has in place, he highly doubts that.

"Don't you realise that already I could have robbed you blind and started selling your possessions on eBay?" She slips into the chair beside him and crosses her arms and legs, and he doesn't need to look at her to know that she's frowning.

He does, however, have to catch himself before he rolls his eyes. "Then both my possessions and I thank you for your concern."

She huffs a little at that, but unfolds her arms. From the corner of his eye, he watches her glance around his kitchen, watches her take in her surroundings. Idly, he wonders if she's appraising his market value, or simply curious.

"So this is your England," she says then. "Huh."

He picks up his tea, and takes a sip, and then sets the mug back on the table carefully. "Different from what you thought?"

"From what I remember," she corrects, somewhat absently, and then she shakes her head, and leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. "How long have I been gone?" she asks.

"Gone?" He's still staring at his paper, he realises -- has been pretending to read it from the moment he sensed her on the outskirts of his property -- but suddenly there are no words there anymore, no sentences. Just letter after letter, all black ink and gibberish.

"Dead."

_Three years, two months, seventeen days, forty-two minutes and a handful of seconds._ "Three years." He clears his throat. "Approximately."

"Oh." There is silence then, heavy and almost awkward. He forces himself to pick up his tea again and drink. "So why aren't you being all surprised and 'dear Lord -- a ghost!'?"

He looks up then, finally; looks at _her_. At her half-curious half-bemused expression, and her hair with its neither-blonde-nor-brown colouring but rather some shade in between. At eyes that are too old for someone who looks half his age, and who is wearing a summer dress that clings in ways he probably shouldn't be noticing at all. She _looks_ corporeal enough, he thinks, but he shifts slightly so that he can tap two fingers on the back of her hand just to make sure. " _Are_ you a ghost?" Solid, warm flesh underneath the tips of his fingers, but he waits for her to answer anyway.

She smiles. "No."

"Then there's no reason for unnecessary dramatics, now, is there?" Especially, he thinks, when it's _Anya_ ; when everything she does (whether it's discussing her sex life in public or returning from the dead) is a surprise and it's only really a surprise when it _isn't_ a surprise.

"I guess not," she agrees, and not-surprises him further by turning her hand over, and catching his; their palms connecting when she tangles their fingers.

"Well then," he says, clearing his throat again. He thinks he might be smiling just a little too much, and hopelessly tries to temper the expression. "Breakfast?"

She grins back. "Please." 

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/233405.html>


End file.
